


The King's Reward

by Cartadwarfwithaheartofgold (manka)



Series: 2020 Charity Fundraiser One-Shots for RAINN [10]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Enthusiastic Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Hardened Alistair (Dragon Age), King Alistair (Dragon Age), King's Mistress, Oral Sex, Post-Dragon Age: Origins, Reunion Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:40:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26495776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manka/pseuds/Cartadwarfwithaheartofgold
Summary: Alistair has been working hard while Sarita Amell is away. When she returns, she has a reward to offer him for his best behavior.
Relationships: Alistair/Female Amell (Dragon Age), Alistair/Female Warden (Dragon Age)
Series: 2020 Charity Fundraiser One-Shots for RAINN [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1913077
Comments: 4
Kudos: 46





	The King's Reward

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Yadania](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yadania/gifts).



> This is part of my Charity Fundraiser! All of the proceeds go to RAINN.org to help survivors of sexual violence. Thank you Pooky for trusting me with your smoking hot Sarita and Alistair! Also thank you to [Tessa1972](https://tessa1972.tumblr.com/) who donated and then gave the commission slot to Pooky as a present!

Alistair knew there were less pleasant places that Denerim in the summer. Abandoned crypts. Swamps. The Korcari Wilds. Anywhere that served Orlesian cuisine exclusively. Orlais in general.

Yes. There were certainly worse places to be than the sweltering heat of Ferelden’s capital city. But it was certainly hard to remember that when he’d taken off everything except his own skin and _still_ felt like he’d stepped into mage fire.

He reclined on the chaise, rubbing the back of his palm across his nose, and frowned down at the near illegible tiny print blurring before his eyes. Andraste, he’d been at it for hours. He _had_ to be nearly done.

Alistair cast a despairing glance at the stack of papers on the floor, the rest of his newest Antivan trade treaty. Then he pinched his nose, hard, and sunk further into the plush material.

It was Sarita’s favorite chair. He’d hoped sitting on it would help him channel _some_ of her focus, but so far he’d been disappointed. He just… wasn’t as good as the minutiae as she was. Frankly, the fact Ferelden didn’t fall into chaos as soon as she rode out of the capital city was a miracle sent from the Maker himself.

But she had a duty. They _both_ did. She fought the blight, for both of them, because _he’d_ had to forsake his oaths for a crown. His sword languished in a training yard, his crown fit ill upon his head, and Sarita…

Sarita was his mistress instead of a queen like she should have been.

It had been the right thing for Ferelden. The only thing to do, really. That didn’t mean it didn’t sting. Though things were changing. The situation in Kirkwall was becoming tenuous, _proving_ the Circles didn’t work. Once that keg exploded, and it was about due to at any moment, it would be a matter of time until the established systems fell down around his ears.

He’d be ready. They’d defeated the blight, after all, and once the old rules were gone…

Well. It was a pleasant daydream. Much more pleasant than Antivan trade treaties, in fact. He tossed the paper to the side and laid his head back, luxuriating in the faint breeze that stirred the curtains. He closed his eyes and conjured Sarita’s azure eyes, the blonde hair tucked behind the curve of her ear.

She’d be back soon. He couldn’t wait.

* * *

Alistair didn’t know how long he slept, but the soft sound of movement drew him from heavy, blissfully dreamless, sleep. Even after years, his gut reaction was to freeze and hone in on the small noises, searching for danger while keeping his eyes closed. He heard the rustle of silk. The splash of water.

Then he felt thin, staff calloused fingers tracing over the hard planes of his muscles.

“Sleeping on the job, your highness?”

He chuckled, stretching his arms above his head before opening his eyes. Above him, Sarita returned his crooked grin with one of her own, walking her elegant fingers down his chest.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes.” He rumbled.

“Not as much as _you_ were.” Sarita’s expression shifted into a wicked smirk, searing hot gaze dropping down his body.

 _That_ was the moment Alistair remembered he was snoozing away in all his Maker-given glory.

“You’re lucky I wasn’t a servant.” Sarita added, eyes twinkling.

“Maker’s _breath_. I’m lucky you weren’t Oghren.”

“Oh, he was with me. I’d say you struck him blind, but I’m not sure he noticed.”

Alistair laughed. “Sounds like Oghren.”

Sarita hummed a muted agreement, her eyes trailing down his revealed skin. Cheekily, Alistair snatched her fingers from his chest and brought them to his lips, kissing the tips while he held her gaze.

“And have I struck you blind like the Revered Mother always said would happen?”

“Not yet.” Sarita purred, leaning over him on the chaise. “Have you missed me?”

“Endlessly.”

Joy sparked to life in her eyes. She brought her lips closer to his, leaning in to whisper against them. “And is this our treaty with Antiva?”

“It is.” He replied, pious as possible. It was made difficult because his sleep addled mind had finally caught up to look beyond Sarita’s stunning eyes and the golden fall of her hair.

His lover wore a simple silk robe, the pale material almost sheer in the late afternoon sunlight. She smelled of lavender, clearly already washed up after her arrival. The loose tie of the robe let it fall just right so Alistair could trace the swell of her breasts.

“It’s all done?”

“Just needs a final stamp. Got to read through it and make sure they didn’t put me dancing naked in the town square as one of their…”

Alistair lost his train of thought watching Sarita capture her plump lip between her teeth, peering at him through her long lashes. His breath caught in his chest as her finger drifted lower, scratching at his abdomen with blunt nails. His cock twitched with interest, beginning to swell between his thighs.

“Maker’s breath. You’re beautiful. I’m _still_ a lucky man.”

“Working hard _and_ compliments?” Sarita questioned. “It sounds like someone has earned a reward.”

“I have behaved myself. Ask anyone- oh _Maker._ ”

Sarita’s quick fingers pulled the knot in her robe and it fell from her shoulders like Andraste herself was unveiling her most glorious masterpiece to the world. Alistair pushed himself up, eager eyes darting over her exposed flesh. The curve of her waist, the fullness of her hips, and those _breasts_.

Andraste herself didn’t have a nicer pair of breasts. Alistair knew. He’d been shoved in front of _many_ statues of the blighted woman.

...not that he’d been looking at Andraste’s breasts.

Before he could fall further down _that_ train of thought, Sarita settled herself on the opposite end of the chaise. One firm, strong hand pushed him back into a reclining position, her smile absolutely wicked. The kind of smile that always heralded the _best_ activities.

“I know just the thing to show my appreciation.” Sarita purred, running her hand back down his body. His cock, fully erect, bobbed as she trailed her teasing touch up over his stiff length. He watched her smile grow predatory.

“Just enjoy, love. Allow me.” She whispered.

Truly the only thing he could think to say was a prayer of gratitude for the lovely creature in front of him. Sarita stole the words out of his mouth by dropping her pink lips to the tip of his manhood, pressing a perfectly _filthy_ kiss to the tip.

Alistair swallowed, hard, and brought his hand up to cup the soft skin of her cheek. She leaned into his palm while her quick tongue darted past those tempting lips to lick a stripe down his length.

Alistair grit his teeth together, blowing his breath through his nose. It’d been too long, she’d been gone too long, and he wasn’t going to last. “Sarita…”

“I know.” Her own voice was husky with desire, blue eyes molten with it. “Thank Andraste for Warden stamina, right?”

“It’s a perk.” Alistair breathed. One of the few, but he’d take it. And her. He was _certainly_ going to take her _thoroughly_ before the evening was over.

She smirked, wrapping her long fingers around the base of his cock and opening her mouth.

Warm. _Wet_. One of Alistair’s hands threaded gently through Sarita’s hair, the other roughly grabbed onto the delicate upholstery of her chaise. His back arched, although force of will kept his hips steady while Sarita swallowed his length in her hot, willing mouth. Years of habit meant she took him easily almost to the hilt, the hand wrapped around his base stroking what she couldn’t take comfortably.

Those sharp eyes looked up at him again and Sarita squirmed between his legs. He could smell her own desire, heady in the air, as she bobbed back up his length. His cock slipped from between her lips and she placed another kiss on it’s tip before diving back down.

Someday, she was going to kill him and Alistair wouldn’t even complain. His moan of approval rang out in the silent room while his fingers stroked through her soft hair. She felt… Maker, she felt _fantastic_.

Then her tongue swirled around him and he hissed, knuckles gripping the chair going white. “ _Sarita_.”

She made a noise of approval that vibrated around his length and he moaned _again_. That only emboldened her to devour him with relish. Her teasing tongue danced over his throbbing shaft, she hollowed her cheeks to suck him deeper into her mouth.

Alistair’s hand trembled. Fire ignited in his spine, traveling down to his groin. He clenched his jaw, trying to stave it off, until Sarita’s eyes found his again.

He was lost the second he saw the matching heat in her gaze. With a groan of defeat, Alistair surrendered to the pleasure she coaxed from him. His head fell back, something buzzing in his ears as his cock swelled further before everything went white.

 _Searing white_. Hotter than anything he’d ever touched.

He came back to himself in pieces, panting and slick with sweat, Sarita’s fingers swirling patterns over his thighs. He huffed a small, choked laugh that was matched by her giggle.

“Missed you.” She admitted softly, resting her head on his thigh.

“Only cause you love me.” He murmured.

“I do. Very much.”

His heart melted in his chest and he looked back down into her angelic face. “Good. Cause I’m _quite_ mad for you.”


End file.
